Brain Droppings

        I wonder, sometimes, what other people think of me.  I spend a lot of time at a local coffee shop where I sit in the same seat every day and read; always alone.  When I was a teacher I worked at my desk all of the way through my planning period and lunch and rarely did I talk to anyone.  At the gym, while lifting weights, I focus on my workout and do not engage with the others  My look is intense and severe and I know that can be off-putting to those around me.  I am older now: my eyes have lost their glimmer and appear hollow, my hair is thinning, and I have lost a lot of the energy that I had even ten years ago.  And yet the intensity is still present and that can be intimidating to other people.  I am sorry for that but I cannot change who I am or how I look.

        I am a learner and have been reading history since I was in middle school.  I already know a lot and since I have retired have dedicated myself to self-education.  When I have finished with my latest non-fiction book, I like to jot down a few notes in my iPad; I will come back to those notes later in the hopes that I can make a journal entry out of them.  If it is good enough then I will type up my notes and publish them on my blog.  This blog entry comes directly from that process.  If I don’t jot down the notes immediately then I know that I will forget it.  Besides, I can make the experience of reading a good book last longer by reliving it by writing about it.

       I have tried to make myself a better human being over the years.  For example, I know that no one wants my advice so I may as well keep it to myself.  I know my place and have learned that in order to get along with others I must avoid topics like religion or politics since I know that I will never change anyone’s mind anyway.  Who am I to give advice?  I am a retired teacher who is lucky enough to be able to afford to travel and the luxury of time to read history books.  One day melts into another and, since I do the same thing every day, there really isn’t a weekend for me.  Each day is a history of all of the other days while one week bleeds into the next without excitement or pageant.  This is not a complaint.  I have it good and I know that I have it good and 99% of the population would gladly change places with me.
 

       I am more confident in myself than I once was: I don’t stutter anymore, I have calmed down a lot, and am more patient.  It used to be that I felt like I was in a competition with everyone so I became defensive and sarcastic.  I wanted to bend others to my will.  Now I just want to get along with people because I understand how little I matter and that I can’t change anyone.  Since I can’t make a difference, I only want to enjoy the time that I have left and hope that I will be remembered fondly.
  

        Misery is caused by desire so I don’t compare myself to others because that would be the death of happiness.  Jealousy leads to misery so, if I can concentrate on my own life and eliminate everything that does not bring me joy then I can truly be happy.  Any worries or anxieties that I have I try to exorcise at the gym.  My wife and I live a minimalist lifestyle in that we have a little condo with just enough room for us to be comfortable.  A lot of my time is spent at my desk that I have positioned in the corner of our bedroom.  I like to read before dawn and have found it relaxing to hear Tracey snore in our bed next to my desk.  Some how, just knowing that someone is in the room next to me is reassuring.   

        While he was in the senate, Barack Obama said that he used to schedule an hour every afternoon just for himself so that he could think.  No meetings, no phone calls, no reports to read; just time to himself.  I am lucky that I have time to think, to suck in as much knowledge as possible.  My life is boring but monotony is a friend of thinking and learning.  Besides, I have enough confidence in myself to do nothing; after thirty five years in the classroom I believe that I have earned it.  For the time that I have left I will prepare myself for nothing and everything because nothing matters and everything matters.  My job is to hang onto my current lifestyle, to be a good steward of our savings, and to save enough so that we have something to pass down to our children.

       Socrates said that the best way to get through life is to “know thyself.”  People are their own worst enemies and so I have tried to eliminate those things in life that my me unhappy.  I don’t play video games because they frustrate me and make me angry.  Although I could easily spend hours, or even days, shooting down aliens.  But the price would be too high.  The same thing goes for gambling.  I have an addictive personality so I could burn through our life savings by trying to win that next great score.  I avoid confrontations with other people because, win or lose, the arguments always make me feel badly about myself.  Instead, I try to fill my relationships with patience and empathy.  Still a work in progress, I know that I am no saint, but at least I recognize the problem and am trying to do something about it.

      I know that this blog entry isn’t very well written and doesn’t even have a central theme but these are the ideas that I think about all of the time and I wanted to share them with you.


   
   

Rick Heim

         I found out from Facebook that Coach Rick Heim had pancreatic cancer, the deadliest type of cancer in which only six percent of those diagnosed survive the first five years after detection.  This hit home for me because of all of the teachers at Sacred Heart, Rick was the most like me.  We had been co-workers since we were both hired in 1991 so I spent my whole career at SHA with him on the faculty.  Further, we were about the same age, ran cross country for Coach Rostel at Trinity High School, and we were both gym rats.  We had the same quirky sense of humor in the classroom.  Our daughters went to Sacred Heart and he lamented to me at one time that he didn’t get to see his daughter nearly as often as he would like.  I told him that “I know exactly how you feel.”  Finally, when I first started at SHA, a group of guys would go out on Friday afternoons for a beer and Rick was one of the regulars.  We even went to the Derby infield together.  It was our salad days and I miss the camaraderie that I felt with the male members of the faculty that we shared together thirty years ago. 

        I am surprised at how Rick’s diagnosis had affected me and was truly sorry that he died of pancreatic cancer.  He was a true legend because he was still teaching when diagnosed and he had just finished his 33rd year as the cross country coach where he won seven state championships.  Rick richly deserves his legendary status.  I had been reading the posts on Facebook by our former students and the accolades kept pouring in.  The most common sentiments was, “There are few people who have made a bigger impact on my life,” and “You have got this and we are all here for you,” and “Go out there and kick cancer’s butt.  You have a lot of people on the sidelines cheering for you.”
        There are a lot of stories that I could share about Rick but my favorite involves the pandemic.  At first, all of the kids were online, and then we had half of the kids at home and the other half in school.  However, the kids could not be within six feet of each other so they were forced to eat their lunch outside while sitting on the ground.  Rick and I shared lunchroom duty together and the girls were expected to put their bottles and paper plates into a garbage bag.  They were slow in doing it so the principal asked us to carry around a garbage bag and walk to each girl and asked them to deposit their trash into the bag.  My thought was that “I have a master’s degree and have been teaching for thirty years and I am not going to be a garbage man.”  Then I saw Rick, happily going from girl to girl, collecting their trash and joking with them.  He humbled me that day by setting an example of what a good teacher should do, and that was to pitch in and do whatever was necessary to help the cause.  It is a lesson that I never forgot and I had a new attitude about collecting the trash.
        A life-long friend of Rick’s, whom I see at the gym every week, told me about how when he was in his 20s Rick had been in a terrible car accident and was in a coma for two months.  Rick carried some physical reminders of that accident with him until he passed.  Two of his siblings died years ago and he just put his mother into a nursing home over the summer.  Now Rick will never get to see his daughter get married or know the joy of having grandchildren.  He will not know retirement and the pleasures of slowing down.  His death by cancer reminds me that Tracey and I did the right thing when we quit our jobs when we were in our late 50s, bought a small condo, and have traveled the world.  These are the best days of our lives and I deeply regret that Rick will not get the same reward for all of his years of service as a father, coach, and teacher.